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by TatyanaIvanshov



Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [3]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Chev being an adorable attentive boyfriend, Crying, Fluff, Forgiveness, Healing, Healing Sex, I Love You, M/M, Philippe being a soft baby, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Season/Series 03, Smut, This is the most explicit sex ive ever written and its still not THAT explicit..., Top！Philippe, for a good reason i promise, fuck the writers, mlm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25260871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov
Summary: After The Chevalier says 'I love you' for the first time, they are interrupted by Liselotte. They must endure the rest of the day before they can be together in each other's arms again.
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873663
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





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**Author's Note:**

> When you aim for 4K words and end up with almost 10K because you have zero self-control and these characters have a mind of their own -_-
> 
> So, the writers of Versailles SUCKED when it came to Monchevy, especially in season 3. They used the cheapest, most irrelevant plot devices to drive the plot forward and it seemed like breaking them up was their way of getting Chev out of the picture so they could explore Philippe's and Louis' relationship and the whole Man in the Iron Mask thing. I am eternally pissed about it.  
> Now, season 3 is a particularly difficult part to write because yes, Philippe did hurt Chev but he was practically broken and suffering from mental illness. On the other hand, though, Chev did so much for Philippe and was let down. I don't blame either of them for what happened (I blame the writers if you can't already tell) and I hope that comes through here. They both had their faults and they both hurt each other, but at the end, they swallowed their pride and accepted to love each other, which is what makes them so great.  
> What irks me most, though, is how the writers just think it's okay to put a bow on everything as if 'I love you' can really take away 2 seasons worth of SUFFERING. That's not how it works. Even after this, it will take a while for Philippe to be back to normal and there will need to be a lot of work put into it, just like any real relationship but first, I had to have them talk it out and reconcile properly so, here we are!

He resented Liselotte for interrupting them. At last, he had felt Philippe’s lips on his own after so long and they were like a cloud, scooping him away from every hardship he had faced for so long. And now, as he sat in the salon, eyes searching for the Prince in the crowds, it all felt like a dream. Like it never happened, like they were still fighting and Philippe still hated him. He tried to get it out of his head, but the faint scent of him would not leave his skin and Lorraine didn’t know if he hated it for pestering him, a constant reminder of what had just happened, or loved it for keeping Philippe close to him even though he had no idea where he had run off to. 

He saw him with Louis but did not notice when he’d left. So, the Chevalier attempted to get Philippe out of his mind and enjoy the entertainment. Liselotte was at his side, commenting on Maintenon’s hair, and Lorraine made a snarky comment that made her snort.

It wasn’t until later that Philippe showed up again and Lorraine’s heart jolted. He approached him and it didn’t take long before all eyes rested on them, including Louis’, curious at the sudden closeness of the two. Whispers grew but neither minded. 

“Hi.” He smiled at Liselotte before taking a seat next to Lorraine at a table. 

“Where have you been?” He asked, popping a grape in his mouth and for the first time in a while, his words held genuine curiosity instead of jealous accusation, truly a breath of fresh air. Philippe’s smile that followed was warm and welcoming, though short-lived. 

“Louis wanted to talk. He took me out riding in the forest. What have you two been up to?” He picked a strawberry and munched on it, the tinted juice coating his lips quite temptingly, only enhancing the already placed on rouge. 

“Oh, you know, just here and there.” Lorraine did not know why he found it so hard to converse with the Prince. It was Philippe, for God’s sake. They’d known each other since they were kids. So, why did it all feel so new? Like they were strangers, meeting for the first time. 

“I have some good news for you.” Philippe had the Chevalier’s attention who turned towards him with curious eyes. “I spoke to my brother and I mentioned how much of a drag the entertainment is.” 

“Truly an abomination,” Lorraine commented, taking a sip of wine. “I do not understand how you can mix classical and modern this way. Green and yellow only look good together if-” Philippe cleared his throat. “Sorry, proceed.” Philippe watched him with great fondness for a second, reminded of all the reasons he so loved this man. 

“Long story short, you’ve got your position back, mon cher.” Monsieur attempted to conceal his smile but when he saw his lover’s grin, concealing it was the last thing on his mind. Lorraine gawked, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious.” He blinked, confusion turning into excitement as the Prince nodded. “Good heavens, Philippe.” 

“It’s the least I can do after everything.” They were so near, Philippe’s arm around the backrest of the Chevalier’s chair. “Either way, there is no one more deserving of the job, that’s for sure.” He reached over to grab a grape, having to lunge across the Chevalier’s body to get to it, their faces so near, it made both their hearts jump. His breath caught in his throat, so tempted to kiss the Prince right then and there and it took every ounce of control to hold back. 

“I don’t know what to say, Philippe.” He found the other man’s hand under the table, linking their fingers together in a simple motion he had thoroughly missed. “Thank you.” Philippe smiled and was about to speak up when the King’s voice came booming in the room, demanding all eyes on him.

“We’ll talk later.” Philippe pulled away and leaned back against his chair, attention on his brother who began with his usual talk of glory to appear as powerful as God himself. It had become common at this point to hear the King going on about the country along with whatever he had thought of that day but Philippe had no interest in it. Not until fireworks were mentioned. An uneasiness churned in his stomach at the memory of what had happened last time and he suddenly was ready to depart. “I must retire.” 

“What? No! Stay!” Liselotte insisted. 

“Stay, darling. At least for the fireworks and then we shall leave together.” Lorraine’s hand cuffed around his, drawing circles on his knuckles. Philippe swallowed, trying to subside the nervousness. Perhaps if he’s with the Chevalier, it would not be as last time. Perhaps if he held his hand, it would make it easier. 

His gaze darted between the two, trying to decide. Eventually, he nodded and sat back. Lorraine was about to draw his hand away when Philippe’s grip tightened which left him confused but did not ask any further questions, assuming Philippe just missed the contact. He did too.

The anticipation was nerve-wracking and with every passing second, Philippe grew more nervous. And then, he heard it, the sizzling of fire that would lead to an explosion in the night sky.

As soon as the first firework shot up, Philippe’s breath caught in his throat. Nothing felt real anymore. It launched and imploded and the pungent odor of gunpowder spread so quick, he began to tremble. The Chevalier’s hand on his was the only element keeping him grounded. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew breath. 

Lorraine’s skin was soft. It was supple. It held no damage. It was bright and gleaming. It was real. Philippe tried to get out of his head but his breaths came out shaky. 

The next firework. 

It was sudden and it startled him. 

Blood. 

A flash of memory sent him spiraling. His lips squeezed in a straight line as he tried to not mind the next launch but it didn’t work. Soon, there were a few at the same time, their bright lights still visible though he kept his eyes shut. He tensed, anticipating the next.

Bodies. 

So much death. 

He recalled so clearly the slice of a sword through a body and the screams of agony that would follow. The way the eyes would drain of life until skin paled and the last breath was drawn. 

Instinctively, his nails dug into the Chevalier’s skin which grabbed his lover’s attention and was met by Philippe’s glistening eyes that peeled open, clouded in fear as if he was not even looking at him, but instead, his glare shot right through.

So much blood.

Another firework and another and he couldn’t take it. 

Lorraine took to saying something, perhaps he did yet Philippe heard nothing but ringing, loud and unbearable in his ears. Screams and visions that flashed before him. It all came rushing back. He had to get out of there. Escape. To hide away in a space where no one would know of his weakness, of his tears. He could not tell the Chevalier, not after reconciling with him.

So, he fled. 

He pushed himself to his feet and pulled his hand away, rushing out of the salon and into the dark corridors. He was sure he heard the blonde calling after him but it was muffled by the imploding fireworks in the distance and the crashing waves of memories in which he drowned. He was losing air and it was happening too quick. Every bone in his body ached as he gasped for breath, leaning against a column to try and calm himself.

It was vile. Every vision held deplorable memories of debauched bodies, gut-churning sights that he could not get out of his head. Sights that kept him up at night and now gripped at his heart and would not let go, as if there was something pressing down on his chest. 

He panted for air. 

Screeching.

Agony.

Adrenaline.

Blood.

The wet dirt.

His Philippe. He felt a warm hand once more wrap around his and he knew who it was. It pulled him out and in a split second, it was as if his head emerged from the dark waters and breathing got easier. He choked and stumbled and fell into a buff pair of arms that held him near. 

The Chevalier was here. 

His hand soothed Philippe’s dark hair, tender yet firm enough to be real as the Prince sobbed into his coat.

“Philippe.” His whisper was tender, unimposing on the tears yet it was a voice for him to follow, like a light to chase after. “Philippe, I’m here. It’s alright. Shh…” But at the words, the Prince only broke down further, wails muffled by the Chevalier’s body. His hand fisted around the overcoat as Lorraine’s face crumpled in pain, unable to hold himself together when seeing his lover in such a state. He pulled him near until they were the closest two bodies could be, until there were nothing between them but clothes. 

He sobbed until there were no more tears left, until he was hiccuping and trying to catch his breath, pulling away from his lover’s dampened chest to meet his also teary eyes. His breaths were ragged as he took in the sight of Lorraine. Oh, how he missed being held so during the darkest times, being cared for, able to relinquish all control to a man he knew he could trust with his life.

“Philippe.” Was all the Chevalier could whisper, a million questions through his mind. 

“I’m sorry.” He cried, sniffling in an attempt to pull himself together.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Lorraine’s fingers found Philippe’s wet cheeks, wiping away the streaming tears as they continued to fall. “Come with me.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead and waited for Philippe to nod before he could lead him through the dark palace halls and into the Prince’s apartments. 

Philippe tried to breathe, tried to hold himself together as Lorraine carefully slipped his overcoat off his shoulders and draped it over a chair before coming forward and undoing his cravat. They made no eye contact as he worked in complete, deafening silence, unbuttoning his waistcoat as well. 

As for himself, he only removed his overcoat before taking Philippe’s hand and leading him into the bed-chamber, towards the foot of the large bed where he sat him down and draped a thin blanket over his shivering body after he noticed how tiny and crumpled up he’d gotten. 

He remembered a time they had been in a similar position, the Prince sitting at the foot of his bed sobbing this way but this time, it was different. He recalled how it ached him to watch the man he loved in such pain and how all he wanted to do was scoop him up in his arms and drive all pain away but he felt as though he was unwelcome to do so. To walk away was ever harder and Lorraine vowed he’d never do such a thing again. Instead, he knelt by and caressed Philippe’s hair out of his face, unable to resist placing a loving kiss on his forehead. 

“Can I get you some wine, my darling? Or water. You’ve had too much to drink.” Philippe shook his head, unable to meet his lover’s eyes. He looked so small, sitting there, like an abused child, crippled by fear and pain. “Please, look at me.” The back of Lorraine’s hand brushed his cheek in the tender ways he knew Philippe would melt under and he did, exhaling and leaning against it but still unable to find his gaze. “My love.” 

Sadness filled the blonde. Would the Prince order him away? Had he changed his mind? He fiddled with the lace cuff of his sleeve, unsure of the other’s feelings.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” His small, timid voice gave him hope.

“Of course.” He did not hesitate. “But please, talk to me first. What is going on with you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Philippe’s head sunk further, but Lorraine knew he was trying to conceal tears. 

“Look at me.” His hands brushed on Philippe’s cheeks, raising his head with caution and the Prince didn’t fight it. His eyes rose and their gazes met and for a moment, he was lost in the eyes he’d missed wholeheartedly, the eyes he had willingly ordered away from himself, and now, as he looked upon them again, he thought himself crazy for doing such a thing. “There you are.” Lorraine’s smile was a balm, soothing as his touch. 

He must speak, Philippe decided. He could not keep hiding from him of all people, the man that had stood by him through thick and thin and is now back in his life, ready to do anything for him just as he was ready to do anything back. He must say something. Even if it will ruin the way the blonde saw him, even if he felt so disgusted, he’d need time. He mustn’t hide any longer. 

“War.” Philippe murmured. 

“What about it, love?” 

“It keeps me up at night.” He shuddered. “I think about it a lot. It’s so many memories. They’re so violent.” Philippe swallowed back, his eyes ripping away from Lorraine, only to be forced back there by his lover’s fingers on his chin. “I have hurt so many. It’s so often we hear about the glory of war and how honorable it is but every battle took a piece of my heart, Philippe. I am left with nothing for you. I am damaged, my skin is still bruised, I have lost so much of myself.” Tears welled once more. “I have nothing left to love you with.” 

The Chevalier felt his heart crack along with his lover’s voice, unable to believe what he was hearing. 

“How can you say that?” He took his hands and laced their fingers together. “You feel pain?” Philippe furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of the reason behind such a question but nodded anyway. “You feel hurt?” Again, nodded. “See? You feel. You have a heart still.” His hand found the Prince’s chest, laying over the loud drummings of his heart. “That hasn’t changed and that is all I need from you.” 

“It’s so damaged.” He shook his head.

“It was damaged last time you went to war as well, was it not? And by the time you left again, though there were still traces, they had become scarce and few. You healed and you will heal again.” 

“It’s been months and nights are still restless.” Philippe sniffled. “Nightmares are so vivid.”

Lorraine thought for a moment. 

“May I ask something of you?” The Chevalier’s eyes held concern. Philippe tried to pull himself together.

“Alright.” 

“That you tell me everything.” 

“Everything?” 

“Every memory that plagues you. Promise me.” Lorraine encouraged, tightening his hands around Philippe’s cold ones. The Prince looked back and forth between his pleading eyes, unsure of the request.

“That may take some time.” He mumbled.

“If things go as I plan them to, we’ll have a lifetime of time.” Lorraine said, reaching his forehead to meet Philippe’s, resting together in a moment of silence as Philippe could not resist a smile that stretched out. Oh, how he’d missed this. Just being alone with another that loved him so well, it was as if they were halves of the same person. It was comfortable, even if after so long things needed a while to get on their smooth path once more. And right now, all he wanted to do was enjoy that.

“Not tonight. War was… horrific. It brought out an animal in me and I carried it home. I don’t want to carry it into our bed as well.” His nose nuzzled into the Chevalier’s cheek, taking in the scent he missed so much. 

“Our?” 

“Our.” He felt Lorraine’s hot breath against his lips, so near and willing. He had no more willpower. He did not resist. Their lips met in a plush, kind kiss that knocked them breathless. Tenderness was something Philippe had lacked for so long and here he was, handing it all over so freely to this man who had his heart. He lost himself in it, utterly whooshed away by the tender waves of his lover’s lips. He forgot to breathe, to move, and instead wallowed in it, in its comfort and the way he fit so perfectly into the Chevalier’s embrace around his waist.

It worried him when the blonde broke contact and cast his eyes to the ground. It was then he noticed he was trembling as well and it hit in a moment of realization how hard all this must be on Lorraine as well. And yet, after everything, he was still here, still willing to hold the Prince through every tear. It baffled him and frankly, Philippe didn’t know if he deserved it after all the injustice he had sent his lover’s way.

“There’s something else.” The angel whispered, almost unsure. His shoulders had slumped and he was no longer the powerful, firm arms that held him just minutes ago. Philippe could not stand looking at him in such pain. He found his cheeks and rubbed circles on the skin, raising his face for their eyes to meet. 

“Anything,” Philippe whispered, against his lips.

“Do you remember last time you returned from war?” He searched the Prince's dreading eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I d-” 

“Shh, that’s not why I bring it up.” He found the other’s gaze confused and uncertain. “You wanted something from me. Something I was not ready to give yet.” It took a minute but Philippe grasped his meaning, nervousness filling him. “I’m ready now.” The Chevalier’s breath hitched. He watched the Prince’s stare, dumbfounded at the request and it made Lorraine uneasy. Did he not want to? 

“Philippe, are you sure?” He finally whispered. “We’ve never done that before.” 

“I already bared my heart and soul. Why not my body too?” Lorraine fiddled with the fabric of Philippe’s white, linen shirt, aimlessly studying the lacy material. “If you want to. I understand if you don’t. It’s okay, you don’t have t-” 

“I want to.” He took his Chevalier’s hands and held them between his own, placing a soft kiss on the trembling fingers. “If you are sure you want this, I want it too.” Lorraine’s smile soothed him. It was warm, full of love and adoration, his skin glowing under the candlelight. He looked divine, like an ethereal entity, brought to save him.

“I do. I’m just… scared.” He admitted, fidgeting and unable to rest.

“Don’t be. I’ve got you.” Philippe took Lorraine’s quivering lower lip between his own, feeling the other man melt in his arms. He stood and helped the Chevalier up with him before breaking the kiss and beginning to work on the buttons of his waistcoat, taking his time. “Do you remember our first time together?” Lorraine nodded with a smile. “God, it’s been so long.” 

“What was I, like 17?” He shook his head in disbelief as Philippe’s fingers kept working his clothes.

“And yet you still took such good care of me. You were so careful, so sweet and it had never felt better with anyone else. You gave me something I’d never felt before, ma moitié. I want to give you the same.” He reached up and laid kisses on the Chevalier’s unmoving lips that couldn’t help but mold into a smile. He deepened it, once more taking control and owning every inch of Philippe. He didn’t mind. He was all his, body and soul and not even war had the power to change that. 

“Take me,” The Chevalier whispered and it was all it took for Philippe to lose all control and all sense of himself. He peeled the waistcoat off and lifted both of their shirts until they were bare-chested in only breeches. His tongue worked its magic, ravaging every bit of the other’s mouth, famished for more. 

It wasn’t long before the bulge against his stomach made its presence known and Philippe knew what he needed. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer until they were coiled together, and breathlessly, they pulled away. 

“Lay down.” The Prince commanded the same command given to him so many times in the past. The Chevalier giggled but obeyed, kicking off his shoes before leaning against the pillows. Philippe ran to the other room and returned with something in his hand that Lorraine could not see and frankly forgot all about when their lips were again dancing in a violent rhythm meant to take and arouse. 

His lips found the Chevalier’s exposed neck to explore and lay kisses over but the way he reacted to the graze of Philippe’s teeth and the slip of his tongue was a delight in its own. He sucked on the sweetest spots and Lorraine’s groans of encouragement were his guide, only growing more breathless as he trailed the wet sensation of his mouth down his golden chest.

The Prince unbuttoned the Chevalier’s breeches, and pulled them down, springing free what Philippe had missed every night for a year now. His mouth watered and all it took was the sight of his lover’s nervous anticipation, biting his lip. He took his time just as the Chevalier had done with him before. 

Through the back of his knees, Philippe pushed Lorraine’s legs up and spread until he had access to it all, until his mouth was hovering, ready and in need of being filled. 

The Chevalier threw his head back with a guttural groan when his lover’s warm tongue made flat contact with his weeping body, running up its length to reach the already damp tip. He felt small kisses all over, making him quiver until he was a needy mess. A hand stroked with no other purpose than to please and it drove him mad. He craved more but Philippe’s slow, teasing pace did not end there. 

His lips wrapped around the tip, taking his time with shallow thrusts and a swirling tongue, amused by the Chevalier’s whimpers and groans and the delicious ways he squirmed underneath. Oh, it had been so long since he’d felt this way, so long since such pleasure coursed through his body and his heart filled with overflowing love for the man between his legs that now fully took him in, moaning around his lover when he hit the back of his throat. 

“Fuck, Philippe!” He tried to reach for the dark locks of hair and take control of his pace but his hand was slapped away and he was met with cunning eyes. If his mouth wasn’t so full, he’d be smirking, the Chevalier thought, unable to contain louder groans when another slow thrust reached his hilt. “God, get on with it!” 

“Hmm…” Philippe moaned around his lover’s leaking body, keeping his torturous pace, the soft sounds being a pleasure of their own. The heel of his palm rolled lower between his legs, grabbing and massaging with a warm, masterful hand that drove the Chevalier mad. He wanted to weep and scream at the same time, holding himself back from flipping him over and taking his mouth at his own pace but he knew this slow tread was exactly what he had done to the Prince himself before. It had always been a way to own him, to show him who he belonged to and all the delightful feelings he could grant his body, and this time seemed no different. 

“Oh, this mouth will be the death of me.” He whimpered when Philippe’s fingers reached his nipple and he tugged at the bed sheets to hold himself together while a sheen of sweat coated his skin which only worsened when Philippe’s mouth left, only to be met once more with the tightest spot that he’d never touched that way before. Philippe’s hands kept their pleasuring rhythm. He gasped, eyes going wide, trying his best to keep from screaming and begging as he wanted to but the Prince’s tongue was too masterful, going from the most teasing kitten licks to full-on devouring. “Philippe!” He cried, his back arching off the mattress as his lover pulled him closer, tossing his leg over his shoulder for better access. “Please!” 

But in a split second, the contact was gone, mouth and hands retreated, leaving the Chevalier scrambling to figure out what had happened. His body fell limp on the mattress as Philippe found what he was looking for. The harsh scent of peaches filled the room as the Prince poured a generous amount of oil on his fingers, slicking them properly until he could barely hold the bottle. After putting it away on the nightstand, he hovered over his lover who rested, eyes shut, catching his breath. 

“My love.” He whispered, taking his lips and caressing his hair back with the unoiled hand. Lustful eyes fluttered open to meet Monsieur’s kind ones that were followed by a smile. “Relax. Can you do that for me?” He asked as the Chevalier released a shaky breath, adjusting himself on the sheets when Philippe’s hand found its way between his legs, a finger trailing down the undeniable hardness, to the soft cleft lower. His fingertips danced, oiling over and massaging with no other purpose than to calm and prepare. Meanwhile, his hungry lips found the Chevalier’s bare neck, the motion of grazing teeth eliciting a delightful gasp from his lips as he worked carefully as to not hurt or intimidate his lover. 

It wasn’t until he found his hole and swirled his fingers against it that he froze, nails quickly gripped at Philippe’s arm, unable to breathe. 

“Say it again.” Philippe rose and met the blonde’s flinching eyes as he continued to press and massage. The Chevalier’s body relaxed and his legs spread wider. He bit his bottom lip at the request, attempting to calm himself as much as possible before, against his lover’s lips, he spoke.

“I love you.” 

Philippe pushed in a single finger, earning a gasp and nails that continued to dig in his arm but he did not complain. He held the Chevalier’s gaze as he slowly worked in, reaching halfway through before retreating and working in again. It was a moment of purity beyond what many may perceive, it was bearing and scary just as it was everything either of them had ever wanted. 

It felt so good, though an edge of pain to it, not only the steady finger mildly pressing inside him, but being able to freely say such words after so long of feeling them to the fullest extent. It was freeing and his heart was overflowing as he gazed up at the Prince, as tender and beautiful as the day he’d first met him. 

“I love you.” He repeated, a small moan breaking through when an entire finger found its way inside. Philippe held him close, skin to skin, flesh to flesh, his own bulge begging to be touched but not yet, he reminded. 

“I love you too.” Philippe’s lips reached down and claimed the Chevalier’s working his tongue inside as he added a second finger. Soon, he was stretching his lover out, preparing him for his own body that he pressed against Lorraine’s hip for the smallest bit of pressure, anything at all. The Chevalier had become a moaning mess underneath, hair stuck to his forehead and mouth gaped open for a string of delicious sounds to make their way out. “May I?” He muttered and got an unhesitant nod. 

Philippe pulled his fingers away with great care and noticed the way the blonde let out a displeased noise when he found himself empty. The Prince to undo his breeches which he slipped off and tossed to the floor, shuddering under Lorraine’s hungry gaze that looked as if he was about to devour him whole.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The Prince chuckled, positioning himself between the Chevalier’s legs, lifting them around his waist.

“How can I not, Mignonette? Look at you.” God, how Philippe missed being called that. His heart fluttered as it always did, an undeniable smile creeping upon his lips. 

“Look at you.” He crawled forward, bringing the Chevalier’s legs up with him, to place a kiss on his hungry lips before finding the bottle of oil once more. Lorraine’s knees were almost touching his shoulders as he waited for Philippe who got carried away stroking himself in an attempt to spread the oil. “Mmh.” He moaned but was snapped out of it when the blonde cleared his throat. 

“Having fun, there?” He joked, enough to make Philippe chuckle. The first time he’d properly laughed in so long, it felt incredible, almost as much as the brief contact of his tip to the puckered hole. 

“Shut up.” He shook his head, shuffling to raise the Chevalier’s hips, his hand going back to steady strokes that drove the other man mad. He watched him squirm with a smirk, amused at what only a few of his touches could do to the blonde. He begged but Philippe didn’t give in. He was too determined on having his lover trembling with need before he took his body the way he had bee asked to.

His fingers continued massaging lower towards the tight hole, so close, all it would take to enter would be a buck of his hips. But he took his time, teasing as oil dripped onto the sheets.

“Philippe! Please, fuck me already!” He threw his head back and Philippe spotted tears of frustration welling up between his shut lids. The times Lorraine had done the same to him were uncountable and he recalled just how ecstatic it felt. So, he continued, wrapping his lips gently around his tip once more and swirling his tongue to taste and please. Oh, how he loved such moments. “God.” The Chevalier moaned, earning a giggle from Philippe who finally pulled up and licked his lips clean, readying himself with sloppy strokes.

“Stop me if it hurts.” The Prince marveled at the beautiful sight before him and wondered to himself how he was ever mad enough to let this man go. Never again, he promised himself. The blonde nodded, trying to calm himself as Philippe bucked his hips forward and entered as gently as he could. “Oh, Lord.” 

“Ah!” His mouth gaped open, and his hips reached up to meet Philippe’s thrust. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, a sensation, unlike anything human. “No, no. Too much.” He wrapped his hands around the bed sheets at his side when it got too deep and Philippe had to do everything in his power to stop, the tightness around himself feeling so good, he could barely hold back. He groaned, ragged breathing didn’t stop even as he retreated. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Philippe pulled away and crawled up to meet his lips in a kiss. “It’s alright, my love. Here, I have an idea.” He rolled over to lay back against the bed, next to the Chevalier and patted his lap. “Come here.” The Prince took a deep breath as he watched the other man crawl to his shaky knees and make his way up on top of him, his legs spread around Philippe’s hips. He sharply inhaled when he felt the hard tip graze behind him. “It’s under your control.” 

“I did this for you the first time...”

“I know.” Philippe smiled, caressing out of the way the golden mane from his lover’s tender, beaming face, so much unmissable adoration flooding between them. “I love you so much.” They kissed, hungry, and wanting and it was all the encouragement Lorraine needed. He lowered himself on Philippe’s lap, both of them gasping and clawing at each other’s skin at the sudden tightness. “I’m not going to last long.” The Prince admitted, but it was cut short by a moan when he found himself halfway in. 

“How do you do this?” The blonde whimpered as he retreated and pushed further down, this time, taking in more, enough to have Philippe writhing underneath the trembling body of his lover. A sudden gasp was ripped from the Chevalier’s throat, and his body completely coiled and retreated with a cry. “W-what, what was- fuck- what was that?” Philippe chuckled. 

“You’re there, ma moitié.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the Chevalier’s quivering lips, enough to calm him down, as he brushed back strands of hair and began to lower him again by a firm hold of his waist. “There you are.” 

It took a moment but he reached again, this time tightening with a ripping moan but Philippe anchored him with firm arms and reassuring words until he was able to do it again. The Prince’s head fell against the pillow as his eyes rolled to the back of his head with every roll of Lorraine’s hips and the blonde buried his face in the Prince’s neck as he continued to move, slowly coming to a halt when he felt Philippe’s own hips thrusting up uncontrollably until he was pounding inside him, both turning into a heated pile of limbs, naked bodies smacking against each other as moans and screams strung from their lips. 

Philippe relished in the feeling of pleasing his lover so, a sloppy smile growing wider with every cry of the other man that begged for more. 

After so long, at last, they found their way back to each other, meeting in the best way they knew to love, three words continuously being screamed out with each thrust. Their love wrapped around them, a cocoon of safety, that feeling in itself being euphoria enough.

“Fuck, Philippe!” Tears sprang to the Chevalier’s eyes when Philippe’s hand came down with a harsh smack, the Prince whimpering when he tightened around him. 

“Mmh, you like that?” He rasped against his ear, the warm breath as delightful as the continuous slamming inside him. All the blonde could do was moan in encouragement, rewarded by another stinging slap. 

“Again.” His nails dug into Philippe’s chest. “Please.” 

“Again?” The Prince raised an eyebrow teasingly, amused by the violent nodding. He fulfilled the request, coming down hard to watch his lover throw his head back with a guttural groan. “Again?” 

“Please!” Thrusts became sloppy and the Chevalier was thrashing with every hit of that swollen red spot inside him which Philippe dragged mercilessly over, his slaps growing more frequent until he felt his skin burning with harsh marks. The Prince let all ration go and let his teeth and tongue suck and nibble at his lover’s welcoming neck that tasted exactly as he remembered, the most delightful swirl of scents. God, how he loved it. “Almost… there.” 

“You love me?” Philippe gazed up with glossy eyes.

“So much.” 

“Show me.” He slammed up in violent, deep thrusts until the Chevalier was crying out underneath him, only growing more tense and needy as Philippe stroked with haste what bobbed between them. “Show me how much you love me.” 

Philippe seemed to possess power and vigor that wasn’t there before. He rolled them over, simmering in the delightful feeling of being inside his lover and began to slam harder, feeling the body underneath him tighten and writhe with every slam. It was glorious and every muscle in him was stiff, driving himself towards a release, and just the sight of his beloved, messy hair and flushed cheeks, was enough to have his tip burning with need of completion soon. 

Their lips met and the blonde was thrown over the edge, screaming out in ecstasy, the feeling of the Prince inside him too good to bear any longer. It drove him to fulfillment, ridden by the other man until there was nothing left inside him, throat burning and skin covered in sweat, both of their hair a disheveled mess. Philippe’s nails dug into his hair as he gave a few more thrusts, driven mad with lust by his lover’s broken cries at the repeated assault of his overly sensitive body but it wasn’t long before he found his release, bucking his hips up until every last drop had been shot free to drip down the blonde’s thigh.

They collapsed, toppled upon each other, a mess of limbs and overheated bodies in need of only each other. Silence fell, broken only by soft pants as they tried to catch their breaths, their bodies aching and their muscles burning. Philippe was gentle when pulling himself out of the Chevalier, cautious of the sensitivity of his body after something like that.

Their chests were heaving, fluids smeared between them but neither had enough energy left to care much. Legs were curled together as the Chevalier buried his face in Philippe’s neck, his warm breaths tickling and yet welcome. 

“Philippe?” The Prince muttered.

“Yes, Philippe?” They chuckled, real smiles beaming, at last, content. 

“I love you. Have I said that already?” He earned a soft snort from the Chevalier that was still barely able to move, barely able to pull away just enough for Philippe to turn his head and meet his eyes. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, pressing their noses together. It was times like these when they were truly equal, no mention of rank or height, even marital status became just as irrelevant as ancestry, all fading away, leaving just the two of them, two bodies in need of each other, two men, even that, a notion that faded to leave only two souls in their safe haven of bliss. 

“Thank you.” The Prince echoed. Lorraine had given him something he long craved, something he drove himself mad over for what felt like the eternity he had spent without his lover. He gave him control. He granted him power. Over his body, mind, heart, and soul, he submitted it all to Philippe. It was control he scrambled and pained for. And now, it was all his, to take and give as he wished, to submit if he wanted, to dominate if that’s what his heart needed and momentarily, all was heavenly, a sheen of glow upon the world that left him delirious. “I don’t know if I can put into words how much I missed you.” Philippe’s heart squirmed in his chest, unable to hold back all adoration he had for the man on top of him. 

“I know. I know, I feel it too.” The Chevalier sniffled with a smile and was finally able to reach up and caress back the dark strands that spilled over Philippe’s pale face in waves. “We should clean up.” It pained him to say but Philippe nodded and with groans, they rolled off of each other. Lorraine was about to push himself up, an instinct at this point after how often it happened, but Philippe stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll do it.” It made him smile. He watched as the Prince rolled out of bed and admired his lean figure, every curve he had thoroughly ached for just the mere sight of. In his eyes, there was truly no one more beautiful and as he ogled the man he loved, he’d never been more sure of something in his entire life. The Prince cleaned up his own chest and body before hopping back towards the bed to do the same for this lover that still lay on the messy bedsheets, completely melted at the sight of Philippe, his love, and the only King he would ever recognize. Such treasonous thoughts could not leave the room but he was content with making this man simply the King of his own lands, the center of his own world, the being to which everything else falls second, the one he cared for beyond all ration and sound mind, the one he needed like sunlight to a flower, all life without him practically nonexistent. Oh, how he loved him. “Your hair… it’s different.” Philippe commented and the Chevalier grinned and spread his legs for Philippe to clean up the rest. 

“In a good way, I hope?” 

“I like it. A lot.” He stopped what he was doing to twirl a golden curl around his finger and marveled at its length and fullness. 

“You better. It takes forever to dry.” He made the Prince huff out a laugh. The blonde spread his arms and Philippe put away the cloth to crawl back onto him, wrapping until they were wound up together, in a ball of kisses and caresses. 

“I’ll have a bath drawn for us in the morning. We’ll test to see how long it takes.” Philippe placed a kiss on his lover’s nose. “Maybe you should stick your hair out of the window. Might help.” Lorraine laughed, shaking his head as his thumb drew circles on the small of Philippe’s back.

“Believe it or not, your wife has already suggested that.” Philippe went silent at the reminder of her, his grin gradually falling as he chewed at the inside of his cheek.

“You two have been spending a lot of time together.” He observed in a mix of questioning and stating.

“Yeah. She’s… she’s become a dear friend.” The Chevalier smiled at the thought of her but it quickly faded when he noticed Philippe wasn’t reciprocating. “What is it, mignonette?” The Prince thought for a moment and shrugged. 

“How did it happen? Before I left, you two were constantly at each other’s throats.” He recalled, those days feeling so far gone, it was almost unbelievable they were the same people. 

“I suppose we just found common ground.” The Chevalier thought back. “We went on bickering for a while but she was getting big and one night she came to me, emotional. She said the baby kicked. That night I had drunk my weight in wine and passed out, missing you. I wasn’t crying, that’s for sure.” Philippe sadly chuckled and allowed his thumb access to soothe at his cheeks where those tears would’ve been. “That baby… it was the closest thing I had to you. I wanted to feel it kick so I kept my hand on her belly the whole night and meanwhile, we had to keep ourselves busy-” 

Philippe’s eyes went wide.

“You slept with my wife?” He exclaimed, raising his head from the pillows. 

“Oh, dear God, do you think me a savage? The woman was huge and not to mention your wife. No, thank you.” The Chevalier had Philippe laughing again as he lay his head back on the blonde’s shoulder. “What I meant was, we talked. She wasn’t too bad. She missed her family, I missed mine… but at least hers was alive somewhere. Mine was away at war, who knows what could’ve happened?” A corner of Philippe’s lips rose as his fingers traced down Lorraine’s heaving chest, drawing aimless shapes at the supple skin. “And when he was born… he was another you. I held him and it was… I was holding you. Your flesh and blood.” 

“You held him?” Philippe’s eyes glistened and he swallowed back a lump that grew in his throat.

“I did. I was the first. I wanted to name him after his father and Liselotte agreed but she said it was after his fathers.” At Lorraine’s story-telling tone, soft and articulate, the Prince could not help the tears that welled, emotion filling him at the thought of his little son. “Again, I did not cry.” They chuckled. 

“Was he little?” Philippe muttered, feeling his lover’s breath on his lips. 

“Tiny. As tiny as you.” The Chevalier scooped Philippe like a baby, turning him into a giggling mess. “As cute as you. Except he was very red. You are as pale as moonlight.” 

“I’ll have you know, I take pride in my complexion!” 

“Oh, I do not doubt that. He was also a little chubby. You, on the other hand… you’ve lost quite a bit of weight.” His grin faded as he traced a hand over his lover’s ribs. It had been on his mind since the Prince returned at first and it only got worse as the months went by. All he wanted to do was find a servant and inquire about his ex-lover’s eating habits but he restrained himself, forced himself not to care. 

“I haven’t had much appetite.” Philippe shrugged.

“I don’t care. I’ll order a big breakfast and you’ll finish everything. I hope I have made myself clear.” Lorraine spoke firmly, attempting to sound as harsh as possible which proved quite difficult at the eyes staring up at him.

“It seems I needn’t a governess, I can just entrust my kids to you.” The Prince teased, pressing a kiss to the corner of the blonde’s mouth. 

“You forget, Liselotte didn’t let that baby out of her sight, and I, in turn, didn’t let her out of my sight so, believe it or not, I’ve gotten pretty good with kids.” He raised his chin, triggering a grin so wide in Philippe, he fell in love all over again. 

“Did he ever fall asleep on you?” The Prince blinked up with a pouted lip. His lover nodded. “Did his little fist ever wrap around your finger?” He took Lorraine’s hand and clutched his index finger, watching him nod and laugh. “I want to bring him back… I feel horrible for not doing anything when Madam Maintenon… God, that woman.” His fist tightened.

“Talk to Louis. Try and make him see reason. I miss him too, you know. He was such a great distraction from everything. He was an angel, truly. No Louis, no war could taint him. Like our own private heaven away from the hell this place had become.” The Chevalier could not believe his own words. He had never been good at speaking his mind or acknowledging his feelings but this… this seemed easy. Like all he had to do was open his mouth and he could go on and on about that boy that held his affections now as if he were his own son.

“It was hard on you?” Philippe asked, only for the Chevalier to look at him as if he were insane.

“More than you know. Apparently, getting off powders feels like you’re dying.” Philippe huffed out a melancholic laugh.

“I’m sorry I was not there.” 

“It’s alright. You were off saving the world. Being a hero.” They giggled, bodies growing together like vines on trees. It was so easy, so calming, everything about the other person’s presence so soothing and tender. 

“And missing you.” 

“Oh, you were looking forward to seeing me?” He quoted, as Philippe suppressed the smile and tint of his cheeks that had begun to form. 

“I was!” 

“Liar.” Lorraine pulled his hips closer with a laugh. 

“I’m not lying!” 

“Oh, yes. When you came home, you were jumping with joy at the sight of me, were you not?” He teased. “And do not forget all the amazing sex we had that night. I’ll never forget it.” 

“Shush!” 

“You fell into my arms and all was well.”

“Insufferable. Goodness!” 

“And you kissed me and told me you missed me every night, did you not?” Philippe’s grown smile was replaced with sad eyes at the realization that hit him, a plague of sadness visible.

“You thought of it, didn’t you?” The blonde played confused. “My return.” Philippe clarified, watching his lover’s eyes drop and his shoulders slump in defeat. He knew him too well. “I’m so sorry.” He murmured, as softly as the touch against the other’s skin, an apology.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, memories of that night flashing back, the way he had drank himself until he could no longer walk, the way he found himself alone, in bed, the morning after with not a bone in his body that wasn’t aching. It was a dark memory that he had tried to push aside but to no avail. It haunted him. 

Philippe thought back, so many reasons, so many feelings, he did not know the answer to such a question. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak up but found no words suitable enough. What could he possibly say?

“You…” He found his voice. “You didn’t need me.” His eyes fell, despair evident on his kind features. “You and Liselotte… everyone was better off without me. I had a son now. And you were like a, uhm, like a family. I had no place.” His lover was left dumbfounded at the lies Philippe spoke. His heart ached at the idea that those thoughts had gone through his head.

“No place? Mignonette, how can you… my love.”

“And you had become this perfect entity, the envy of all French nobility. And I was… I was nothing.” 

“Philippe.” He whispered, his grip tightening around his waist. “What do you mean nothing?” Philippe shrugged.

“I heard so many praises sung to you, of all you had done, of your bravery. And here I was, holding myself together by a thread and I didn’t even know what was wrong with me. I- I still don’t.” Tears began to creep up, his vision blurring as he curled closer into Lorraine. He did not know if he had the power to face himself. For so long he had wallowed in his pain, simultaneously pushing it aside and now, for once, someone was making him face his own fears. “Feeling nothing at all was better than feeling… what I was feeling.” 

“What was that?” The blonde whispered, as soft as an angel on his shoulder, caressing his neck and back. 

“Frustration?” He shrugged. 

“At who?” 

“Myself.” 

“Why?” The Chevalier asked, his lips against Philippe’s head, allowing their gazes to be broken in hopes that if he got Philippe to speak, he’d admit these feelings to himself before admitting them to his lover. A confession booth of their very own, not driven by hatred of sin by the will to allow it to consume them. 

“Because… I don’t know.” 

“Why?” He repeated. 

“Because I had forgotten… I’d forgotten to be normal. And this feeling of being so out of place it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t go away.” He choked on his own words, breaking down into tears into the warmth of his lover’s chest. Philippe tried to hold it back. He blinked away the tears and swallowed back his pain but it only took a kiss on the forehead from his beloved and he was back to square one. “There was a dark cloud hanging over me. And you seemed to be shining as bright as ever. Like this beautiful moon that everyone worshiped. I didn’t… I didn’t want to be the clouds that hid away that light.” 

“If I am the moon, then you are my sun. All the light I have comes from you. I shine for you. I am because of you.” A fingertip traces down the Prince’s shoulder, dancing shapes drawn all over every perfectly sculpted muscle. “I could not care less what Louis thinks of me. Or the entire court for that matter. Everything I did… it was all of you.” Such kindness he held in his voice, so soft and gentle like summer’s breeze and Philippe, he was in love. “I was looking forward to seeing you. What changed?” 

“I… nothing. I was. I was always looking forward to seeing you. But then I returned and I realized… I realized how meaningless my presence was. And I guess- I mean I believed it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you walked out.” Philippe hiccuped back a sob. “I was broken and bleeding. And...” 

“And I walked out. Philippe, I’m sorry.” Lorraine felt his own tears well as he scooped the pile that was his lover, closer until he was cradling him into his chest, fully embracing him. “I’m sorry. For God’s sake why didn’t you say something?” 

“I was ashamed, Philippe. I- I forced myself to not think of you. Work seemed to be the next best thing. It involved no feelings. It numbed me and as I said, feeling nothing was better than feeling that… pain. It was something to control. I got addicted to it. And then I found- I found something. I found someone that for once made me happy.” The Chevalier’s mind raced, confused but he did not dare speak. “But then Louis… Louis killed him. I killed my own father.” He broke and his sobs poured. 

“What? What are you talking about? Your father is dead.” The Chevalier looked down at him but he did not dare meet his eyes so Lorraine didn’t push it. 

“The King is dead. Not my father. Well, now they’re both dead.” Philippe made the decision and explained everything, down to the last detail of how they had murdered him in cold blood, the poor man who was his only glimmer of hope, ripped from him just as everything else had been. He could not keep it from his lover any longer. The story came pouring out of him after concealing for what felt like a lifetime, desperate to be spoken and heard. 

“Good heavens.” He murmured under his breath.

“The one thing I still had, though void and empty, was my name. I was still Fils de France. I was still a Prince. And now… now even that is as good as gone. I realized that-th-that when all titles are gone, when all the jewels and gowns are off, I… I truly am nothing.” He pressed his forehead against Lorraine’s collarbone, the drumming of his lover’s heart beneath him enough to keep him grounded. “And I also realized there was only one person that would still love me despite everything, just as he had for years and I- I pushed him away.” 

“My love, you speak of your realizations as if they’re plagues. You know what’s underneath the titles and the gowns and the jewels?” He raised his chin, a thumb finding the plush, tinted lips to pad across. “A beautiful man. An incredible father.” His lips claimed the Prince’s. “A passionate lover. My dear, you aren’t your brother. You are not defined by your titles and your income and lands. You have built something for yourself. When will you see that? The people love you. You are a hero. You say you heard praises sung to me, well, I heard the same for you. As much as it hurt, you’ve won a war, my love. You say it was your men, but those men would be dead if it were not for you. You forget Saint-Cloud, your family, your children. You forget me.” 

The Prince, now in tears, felt a smile forming at his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You would be better off without me, you know? You’ve sacrificed a family and children of your own, all for me. A military career perhaps? And now that you have the King’s ear, you can marry up. You wouldn’t have to be dependent on my every mood and whim. You are a Prince after all.” 

Lorraine thought for a moment and rolled away, leaving Philippe cold without the burning heat of his sweetheart’s body. He worried for a moment, would he push him away? Those thoughts were quelled when the Chevalier turned to him with glimmering eyes and a soothing smile. 

“You forget I have felt life without you now.” His blonde locks spilled across the pillowcases and gave Philippe full view of the exquisite profile of his lover, the unblemished skin of an angel so tempting to touch. “I have loved another. Thought I loved another. It was fun. It was simple. Exciting. I would’ve gotten bored of it sooner or later.” Philippe snorted out a breathy chuckle. “With you… you’re the center of my world. You’re the reason I live, mignonette. You’re my King.” 

Philippe’s breath was ripped away. 

“Such words you speak, ma moitié.” He had spoken like this before, but oh, dear, it had been so long. He had practically forgotten the tightness of his chest and the pure need he had to rip him apart with kisses when he spoke so. 

“You are. And I pray only to you.” A hand found Philippe’s hair and caressed back the brunette strands. 

“And I to you.” He crawled forward to find the Chevalier’s mouth with his own, to devour his lips. When he pulled away, transfixed by his lover’s smile, all he wanted to do was hold onto him and never leave again but thoughts were cut short when his smile was replaced by a thoughtful expression, almost somber in nature. “What is it?” 

“I was told you left for Saint-Cloud for a few days.” Philippe nodded, his own smile fading. “What happened?” The Prince curled into Lorraine’s chest again, in the comfort of his larger body. 

“I had fond memories of the place. Everything there was pure and warm. It had always been… safe I guess.” Philippe reminisced.

“Was it?” He asked. A glint of hope in his eyes.

“It wasn’t Saint-Cloud that was my home. It wasn’t its safety I was after. It was yours. I’m sorry, Philippe. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” Monsieur’s confession was met with a chaste kiss. 

“I’m sorry I let you down.” Their foreheads rested together. 

“I do not blame you,” Philippe muttered. “I promised you something before I left and I broke it. I couldn’t have expected you to feel anything other than betrayed. I just did not feel you needed me any longer.”

“Never again say that again. Without you… without you, there is no life for me, Philippe. Not one worth living, anyway.” Their cheeks pressed together as they lay in each other’s arms. 

“Never again.” He promised. It was all Lorraine needed. His body poured back on the sheets as if he had let go of a thousand burdens and Philippe followed right behind. Whatever plagued them, they shared. Whatever they had to carry, the other made it a little lighter. And now they were back tangled up in one another, legs curled together, bodies pressed firmly until they didn’t know where one started and the other ended but not a care in the world was given. They were one and that was all that mattered. “Does it hurt?” Philippe’s hand brushed down to his hips.

“Not particularly. Just a little uncomfortable.” He smiled. “It seems I’ve been missing out on all the fun, mignonette.” 

“I shouldn’t get used to it, should I?” 

“Nope.” They both giggled. “Perhaps on your birthday. Or mine. Or both.”

“Very well, I’ll settle.” He began to press tender kisses all over the Chevalier’s mouth, nose, and cheeks, taking his time to enjoy every last bit of contact as their bodies refused to let go. His lips were soft, the skin against skin truly a sensation that made him ache in need of more. This wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough, not until they had truly become one, their flesh merged and their souls left to dance together for the rest of eternity. 

“How do you feel?” The Chevalier whispered, his touch as pure as an angel’s. 

Philippe smiled, nothing but adoration and excruciating love filling his heart. 

“Safe.” He spoke, easing his beloved’s heart. “Home.” A feather of a kiss found his lips, a balm to every cut, burn and bruise all over his battered body, now wrapped up in embracing arms. 

“I love you.” The Chevalier murmured against his lips. Philippe smiled, his eyes hooded with the promise of a slumber, soothed by the kind caress of his locks.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is everyone good and crying now? Great. My work here is done.


End file.
